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Chapter One - W-T-F

The first character in our story is a sixteen year old girl named Niff, who lives with her parents and brother in a small suburban home. (It doesn't get much more cliche than that folks.) When she first appears, we find her in her bed sleeping; dreaming really.

She tosses and turns in her sleep. No doubt a bad dream of some sort. Hurray for the side effects of Zoloft! (He's such a happy white circle on his Zoloft, until he goes to sleep...THEN THERE'S HELL TO PAY!!).....

-Zooms into dreamy-like scene-

We see from the girl's point of view. We also seem to be in some sort of small cave, and lying on the floor. When suddenly, in walks in none other than Vlad the Impaler. Yes. Vlad the Impaler, in silver armor and carrying ofcourse, the trademark pointy stick. We feel fear along with the girl in her dream. Vlad suddenly begins stabbing the girl, except he only thinks he's stabbing her. She realizes that nothing is happening, so just to make sure he doesn't actually stab her she fake screams out in pain. Oddly, even though he keeps missing, she's bleeding all over the place. Vlad laughs and then finishes his "stabbing".

"When you're done, wipe your blood on my left shoulder, Edward." Vlad said, and he left.

We now have some strange realization that we/the girl are Edward I of England...in a girl's body... Keeping with strange realizations, we somehow know that Vlad has a crush on the us/the girl. None the less, the girl gets up and runs out of the cave, across some sort of yard, and into a long-grass field. She continues running because she knows Vlad will be chasing her shortly, and ofcourse, we have the legs-feeling-like-lead part of the nightmare........

-Fade out-

Niff shot straight up in bed and the only two thoughts that crossed her mind were "IS HE HERE?!" and "W-T-F?!". And yes, we mean "w-t-f".

Many miles away and two hundred-fifty years in the past (because we all know that because of those damn time zones, all of Europe is still in the 19th century.....(I personally blame the iceburgs...and orange jello...)) Dracula jumps out of his coffin and the only two things crossing his mind were "....Edward was kind of hott..." and "WHY HASN'T SOMEONE MADE A NICE ACRONYM FOR 'WHAT THE FUCK' YET?!"

-Author commentary/narration-

First, we all know that we have no control over what we do or say in dreams, and we all also know that if you have a dream with someone in it, they're having the same dream, just with their perspective. Right? Yes. Good.

Now we all must also realize that in the dream Vlad looks a whole hell of a lot different than Dracula does, even though they're the same person, they're more like alter-egos of each other. Let's make this simple: the historic Dracula appears in the dream, and fictional Dracula is the one living...well I was gonna say living and breathing, but he really doesn't do either of those now does he? And hell, if Niff decides to show up in a dream as Edward I of England, then Dracula can be his scary-ass alter-ego. (Now, you all may be wondering, "Why couldn't she just make things easy and write something that doesn't need an explanation?" That's because the dream that Niff has, is probably the only real thing in this story. ONWARD!)

-End author commentary/narration-

Niff stared around the room for awhile. After such a startling wake up, she had to take a moment to figure out where she was. She shifted out of her deer-in-the-headlights, glazed over stare and rolled out of bed. She had a thing for sleeping directly on the floor, so it was a very literal "roll out of bed". Niff put on a pair of jeans and a grey BOA tee shirt, and proceeded to get ready for the day.

It seemed like an average day; The daily cursing of the sunlight, stumbling around to find pants, eating whatever she could find for breakfast, the usual. Ofcourse she only realized that her shirt smelled like smoke from the club she went to the night before, after she had put it on.

Niff: ::smells shirt:: God damnit!

She stumbled back down two flights of stairs to her room to put on a new shirt.

Niff: (grumbling) Ok, so it serves me right that I picked it off the floor and put it on....but still!

Niff took off her shirt and opened her closet door for a clean one.

At the chance of this story becoming very boring with the telling of how this and that happened and such and such, NIFF OPENED HER CLOSET DOOR WHICH HAPPENED TO BE A MAGIC PORTAL!

Niff: Well that certainly makes things easier!...I mean...Oh look! A portal!....Though more importantly, how the hell am I supposed to find a shirt now? .... Wait... looks up at ceiling ...God?

Narrator: Well it was either that or we'd have to buy rights to use Alex's magical flying carp. And as far as anyone's concerned, I'm the God-mod of this story, thank you, being the narrator and all.

Niff: I guess that makes sense.

Narrator: See? Now all is well and we can continue with the story! ONWARD!

Niff: I still want a shirt. ..... Hello?! ............. Damnit!

Niff stood and pondered for a moment in only a black bra, jeans, a black pyramid-stud belt, and black tennis shoes.

Niff: Why couldn't you make me magically sexy?!

And at that, Niff was nudged ever so gently into the screaming, whirling, vortex of doom. (It uh, may or may not lead to Eastern Europe where our second character was previously introduced..... (How's that for foreshadowing?!))